Master of Puppets
by Rasquathena
Summary: It looked like a simple enough request: "Find his mother." Devyn hadn't expected to be caught up in military affairs, or to be set in the cross-hairs of a particularly vengeful spirit.
1. Interval 01:  A Willing Prisoner

**Disclaimer: I don't own F.E.A.R., any of it's subsequent titles and expansions, or it's characters... though I'm pretty damn good at playing them. (:P)**

**Author's Note: *blows dust off of the first chapter* I wrote this just after my FEAR nights: blasting all the way through the first game, the second game, Reborn, and the new one. For some odd reason, I felt myself feeling so bad for Fettel that I decided to make him a very unlikely little "friend": Devyn Krieg.**

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><p><strong>Interval 01<strong>  
><strong>[A Willing Prisoner]<strong>

Devyn practically kicked open the door to her own apartment, and slammed it behind her before stomping off to the bathroom. She glared at herself in the mirror for nearly five minutes, watching the blood run down from her split lip, cut eyebrow, and nose. If she'd had a dime for every time her mother's "gift" and her own mouth had caused her trouble, she'd be a very rich woman by now. It wasn't her fault that she had a tendency to 'just know' things, or see things from time to time, just like it wasn't her fault that she'd been able to name every man that tramp had slept with in the past seventy-two hours after accidentally bumping into her. She should've anticipated that she was also beginning to take kickboxing lessons before she opened her mouth. If those roaming soldiers hadn't wandered by when they did, she probably would've looked a lot worse. Her golden-green eyes narrowed in mild discomfort as she carefully wiped the blood away from her eyes and rolled up a piece of tissue to plug her bleeding nose.

"Bitch had a mean right hook." She grumbled, wandering to the living room and flopping onto the couch, "Note to self: next time you open your mouth, make sure you see if they know how to fight better than you." With a quiet groan of self-loathing, she flipped on her stereo with the hope that the music would somehow heal her humiliation. The first four songs that rolled into the room were of the sappy, romantic variety. That certainly wasn't helping. With a frustrated groan, she hurled a throw pillow at the power button to stop the noise.

"Mother, if I ever meet you in the afterlife, I'm kicking your head in for this inheritance of yours." A loud 'thud' against the door to her apartment nearly made her fall off the couch. "Okay, okay... no need to get touchy about it." She growled at the floor, positive there couldn't possibly be any room in Heaven for such a woman. Pushing herself lightly to her feet, she hurried over to the door and peered outside. Maybe that new knife she'd ordered as an early birthday present finally showed up. She pulled the door open slowly. Or maybe it was a small box covered with security tape. Curious, she peered down the hall in search of the delivery boy. The only thing that could be remotely described as the one who brought this thing to her was a shadow quickly descending the stairs to the ground level. Odd, but not unusual. There were occasions where people would ask for her help, and most left a letter and an object as opposed to meeting her face to face. Shrugging, she picked the box up off the ground and returned to the comfort of her couch.

It was about the size of a DVD case, and as deep as four of them stacked on top of one another. The security tape convering it bore an unfamiliar logo: three diamonds arranged in a trifecta, the two lower diamonds connected to the top one with a single line, and the top diamond bearing a single dot in its center. Under the tape, the box was some kind of white metal case with a combination lock and a sticky note with it's appropriate combination. The first thing she noticed inside the case was a carefully typed letter resting on top of it's contents, which she moved aside to see what her possible client had left her with - which was nothing more than a red-stained fragment of concrete and a scrap of badly burned leather. Taking extreme care not to touch either of the two objects, she turned her attention to the letter. It asked her to do something highly unusual, even for her: track down not the person who had come in contact with these objects, but their mother, with the promise of great compensation for her efforts. Brushing the request's peculiarity aside, she reached for the items left for her to use in her search, and immediately withdrew her hand at the sight of a red smoke-like vapor.

She blinked. No, that wasn't a vapor. The curtain moved and caused a shift in the light. Exhaling slowly to collect herself, she reached her hand out a second time and ran her fingertips over the corse surface of the concrete. Almost right away she felt a pressure on her forehead and a searing pain close behind it, forcing her to withdraw her hand and press it to her head. Whoever these objects were tied to had gone through a lot of pain recently. If that one hurt, what could the other one possibly have tied to it? Preparing for another bolt of agony, she curled her fingers around the scrap of clothing. This one was filled with conflict, pain, rage... dominance, control. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to weave her way through the powerful emotions tied to the fabric. This was more difficult than other objects, giving her only a dark silhouette to try to give a name as opposed to the usual face. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn that something was trying to stop her from seeing what she was after. Concentrating harder, she allowed her eyes to slowly close to block out any possible distractions in the room. The silence completely absorbed her - until a strange chill ran down her spine.

Her eyes snapped open, revealing nothing but darkness around her. This was new. She'd never been able to step into her own visions like this before. Impressed with herself, she tried to bring some light into the darkness - just enough to see where she was. As if on cue, a dim light flickereed on above her, lighting both her and the floor around her. Much to her surprise, she found herself tied to a chair with the scrap of leather clutched tightly in her hand. The bonds weren't weak, and didn't budge when she pulled against them. Why was she restrained in her own vision? She tried the straps holding her in place again, again they didn't give way. A flicker of movement tore her attention to the shadows in front of her. She wasn't alone; she could feel a pair of eyes boring into her, searching for something as they circled around her. The feeling from the stare wasn't one of curiosity. It was predatory. _Hungry_.

"Who... who are you?" She managed to ask the presence, her eyes focusing on the invisible source of the cold gaze. The circling stare stopped and a light, almost imperceptible chuckle floated around her. It made her shudder.

"You're psychic. You tell me." A voice purred. A man. The person staring at her like a fresh side of beef was a man. That eliminated things like Genevieve from her list of potential names. Her grip on the leather scrap tightened slightly, her nails digging into the fabric as though it would give her answers. It didn't.

"I don't know. This tiny piece of leather isn't telling me much. Can you offer any help?" She asked meekly, unsure as to whether or not she wanted to see this menacing presence. Silently, she decided she'd rather not know what it looked like. Putting a face to that voice and stare would more than likely just give her nightmares. The stare moved again, this time until it was directly behind her. A cold piece of metal pressed against her cheek. She most certainly did not like where this was going. The metal pressed harder against her pale flesh, leaving a thin ruby line and making her wince. As if she hadn't bled enough already today. However, the blade making contact with her skin shot a quick image of jumbled letters across her eyes - as well as a glimpse of a pair of icy blue eyes staring at her, _into_ her. Startled, she let the scrap of leather slip from her hand and fall to the floor.

She instantly found herself sitting in her living room once more, drenched in sweat as though she'd just had a terrible nightmare. Her hand moved to where her cheek had been cut, and came away with a thin line of blood across her palm. Nightmares don't make people bleed, no matter how traumatic. Blaming the cut on her own fingernails, she scooped the piece of leather off the floor and stared at it while she tried to reorganize the letters she'd seen. A name eventually surfaced, though she wasn't enjoying the amount of effort this was taking. Groaning in mild frustration, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed the number left for her at the bottom of the letter. It took nearly five minutes to navigate the useless automated menues before she was able to speak to an actual human being. She didn't waste any time or mince words, and the question that emerged was somewhere between inquiry and demand.

"Who the _hell_ is Paxton Fettel?"

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Devyn Krieg had been put on speaker phone for the entire room to hear. They could tell from the tone of her voice she'd already run into a rather deadly obstacle. The man she'd called shook his head slowly, none too thrilled with her first attempt being met with such opposition. His militant stare passed briefly over the people he sat with before he spoke.

"That would be her son," He hesitated, unsure what was safe enough to tell her at such an early stage, "The items in the case we sent you belonged to him. What happened?"

"The creep had me tied to a chair. I couldn't dive any deeper than the surface of the objects because of him." There was a childish pout in her voice, which made a few of the other men crack a small smile. It was very unlike a twenty-four-year-old woman to react in such a way but, then again, they knew there'd be problems like this and had hoped it would be a little later into their search before they presented themselves.

"We were afraid he might try to hinder the search. Are you all right, Miss Krieg?" She clucked her tongue loudly on the other line.

"I'm..." She paused, thinking about something, "I'm fine. But I'm going to need something a little more substantial than a piece of bloody concrete and a charred scrap of leather if you want my help. Do you have anything else I could use?" The man gave a wary look at his fellows before saying anything more. Fettel was a dangerous individual. Who could tell what giving the woman a stronger link to his energy would do to her?

"As a matter of fact, we do. We happen to be in possession of one of his old jackets. Would that be substantial enough for you to work with?"

"That'd be _perfect_." The group of men could practically hear the eager smile in her voice.

"Very well, but you'll be working under observation from here on out. Someone will be there to pick you up within the hour." He hung up and addressed the men closest to the door, not bothering himself to look at them, "Maddox, go fetch."

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

She was already waiting outside with the white case and a notebook in hand, humming softly to herself. Her short dusty brown hair had been cut to follow her jawline, and her bangs had been dyed a rich shade of red. A pair of hair clips held all but two tapered strands of hair out of her face. She'd changed out of her bloodied and slightly torn clothes from earlier and into some white cargo jeans, dark red boots, and a comfortably snug deep scarlet three-quarter-sleeved top. Open fingered white leather gloves covered most of her hands - her way of preventing any unwanted visions from coming into contact with anyone. She'd been standing outside no longer than ten minutes when a dark vehicle pulled up outside the apartment building. The tinted front passenger window rolled down slowly, revealing two very intense looking men.

"Devyn Krieg?" One of them asked plainly.

"Yes." As she gave them a nod, the one who rolled the window down motioned for her to get inside. While she settled herself in the back seat of the vehicle, she peered into the rear-view mirror to get a look at the driver. His dark hair was gelled into a spiky mess, and his eyes were a slightly blue-tinted hazel due to the odd glasses he wore. The equipment he wore was of a different type, more expensive. She could barely read the letters 'F.E.A.R.' on his shoulder, "Who are you?" The question was calm and disinterested. Those strange hazel eyes glanced up at her in the mirror, studying her with the same scrutiny she'd just given him.

"Gethin Maddox. The new errand boy for these lazy bastards." He didn't laugh at his joke, but there was a smile in his eyes, "Where ya from?"

"Fairport, originally. Started hopping from foster home to foster home after my mother died and haven't been in the area since I was five." The man next to Gethin leaned toward him and whispered something, glancing over his shoulder at her. Gethin gave him a solemn nod.

"Boss says you're psychic." He stated flatly as the car began to slow down. Devyn was mildly taken aback by the statement. He'd said it as though it were common.

"I suppose you could call it that. It's more of a curse really." She sighed as the door next to her was opened from the outside. The men lead her inside a tall building, but took the elevator down to some deep basement level. When the doors slid open, she was greeted by bright flourescent lights and white walls, tile floors, and yet another man carrying a gun. It was almost enough to make her roll her eyes as he extended a friendly, uncovered hand to her. In turn, she folded her hands behind her back and gave him a pleasant smile and a nod. He gave her a confused look.

"No friendly greeting?" He asked. She laughed lightly.

"Unless you want me knowing everything that's ever happened to you, it might not be the best idea." She winked at him as he took a half-step backwards, unsettled by the notion of such a simple act betraying so much. Giving her a slight nod, he lead her down several identical corridors to a numbered room and punched a combination to unlock the door. She watched him carefully, memorizing the combination and studying the door's locking mechanism. There was a better chance of her sprouting wings than allowing a bunch of military knuckleheads to lock her up for an indeterminite amount of time. Flashing them another innocent smile, she stepped inside and grit her teeth as the door slid shut behind her, the lock engaging less than a second later.

The room itself wasn't as bland as the corridors, and she was thankful for that. A full-sized bed rested in the far corner beside a dresser, three bookshelves lined the wall opposite of the bed, and there was a stained glass patterened carpet decorating the middle of the floor. One of the walls had a mural of a cherry blossom tree in bloom. They'd at least made an effort to make the room less... white. She walked over to her bed and sat on the three fleece blankets covering it - right next to the jacket that the man on the phone had mentioned. Using all of her restraint to keep from connecting with its former owner, she ran a hand over the sturdy leather and synthetic materials. It wasn't her taste, to say the least. Moving her hand away from the article of clothing, she began to loosen her grip on her 'gift' and relax. A small tone sounding from the speaker placed in the room made her jump.

"You may begin whenever you're ready. The sooner you find the woman, the sooner you'll receive your reward." She shot a look to the poorly disguised observation window behind the mural and clucked her tongue before turning to look at the jacket once more. All she needed to do was slip around the owner of the object, and see if she could possibly reach whoever this woman was that they were trying to find. It couldn't possibly be _that_ difficult. Breathing in deeply and closing her eyes, she wrapped her hands tightly around the shoulders of the coat.

"Well..." She said softly to herself, "Here goes nothing." Focusing on the object in her hands as she had before, she let it pull her - rather forcefully - to wherever it would take her.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: My self confidence demon that I keep locked in a trunk really didn't want me to submit this, for FEAR (oh, god, bad joke) of this turning very sour very fast, so I'll be relying on reviews to see if it's worth building on. Reviews (and good music) are the lifeblood of this particular story, so please give me your input... or at least a better lock for the self confidence demon.<strong>


	2. Interval 02: Sympathy for the Devil

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the F.E.A.R. series in any way shape or form, or its characters. I own none of it. Really.**  
><strong>I <em>do<em> however, own Devyn and Gethin for all eternity.**

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><p><strong>Interval 02<strong>  
><strong>[Sympathy for the Devil]<strong>

Gethin stood idly next to his superior officer's chair in the observation room, watching with mild interest as the woman seemed to be steadily slipping into a trance-like state. As her hands closed around the shoulders of the jacket, he could see her eyes slowly close and her eyes quickly reach a state of REM.

"Doesn't waste any time, does she." The man to his right commented, "But then again, I suppose none of their monsters do." Gethin shot him a sideways glance.

"Pardon?" His superior smirked icily, producing a thick file from beneath the table and handing it to him. The front of the folder was labeled in typical block lettering and bore the logo of Armacham Technology Corporation, but it was for a project he'd never heard of. The thick block letters stamped on the front of the file read _'Prometheus'_. It was a clever side project hatched by a Ms. Lena Krieg, assumed to be Devyn's birth mother, that discussed the possibility of gleaning information from others in ways that would be completely unnoticeable. The method was described in excutiating detail, but was essentially the ability to look into the minds of others via physical contact and eventually through eye contact alone.

According to the notes, when Lena discovered she was with child, she offered to 'donate' her unborn daughter to the cause. Armacham was more than happy to accept her offer, wasting not an hour before giving her a strict new schedule to follow. The woman was given a variety of medications and serums, and monitored by what little staff that wasn't preoccupied with the young Wade children right up to the moment of birth. Devyn was monitored alongside her mother up until she reached the age of five. Showing none of the ability Lena had promised, the project was deemed a failure. Unfortunately for the scientist, the strict regimen she'd endured during her pregnancy wasn't without concequence. Slowly but surely, her mind slipped past its darkest fringes, causing her to suffer from terrible hallucinations. The woman eventually died of fright - her frail heart unable to withstand the worsening visions - and young Devyn was sent into the care of a different scientist. The girl eventually ran away from home and dropped off radar... until word of a teenager who seemed to 'just know' things floated up from the darkness. Cleverly disguised cameras were immediately set up and Prometheus was reopened. Devyn had been under surveilance for ten years.

"They've been watching her for some time now. That's why I had you play fetch, Maddox, what do you think they'll do if we turn one of their monsters against them?"

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Devyn kept her eyes sqeezed tightly shut as she was pulled into yet another one of her visions. When the odd feeling of phantom movement ceased, the first thing she did was try to move her arms and legs. To her delight, she wasn't bound to anything this time around. As her eyes slowly opened, she found herself laying down as opposed to being stuck in a chair and in a nearly pitch black room. The bed she was laying in was of old wrought iron, which protested loudly as she tugged the scratchy little blanket away to sit up. Most of her surroundings were shrouded in darkness, though she could see white tiles and walls similar to the room her physical body was sitting in. Behind her, painted in dark grey just above the head of the bed, was the letter and number combination of "P2". While she tried to wrap her head around the possible meaning of this, she felt the room slowly become invaded by another presence. It's energy was heavy and opressive, it hit her in the chest like a speeding train. She could feel that cold, predatory stare snake its way from a hidden corner of the room to her left.

"It's you again." She tipped her head nervously to the side, searching the darkness for the man's eyes, "I'm sorry, but I really don't have time to talk." Not wanting to be anywhere near this menacing presence, she hopped off the bed and turned to a metal door with a very small window near its top. Standing on her toes to see if anyone was outside, she tried to open it.

"It's locked." His slightly raspy voice stated flatly. Devyn huffed, smacking the metal with her palm before turning to stare into the shadows.

"Obviously." She sighed, waving the coat in her hands in an overly dramatic fashion, "What do you expect me to do, play patty-cake until you decide to open it?" In the back of her head she was cursing at herself for running her mouth off to someone so sinister. She felt a seething glare shoot from the darkness, and heard the faint sound of unhurried footfalls approaching the small circle of light she stood in. Sure enough, the first thing she saw of this cruel entity was a brown, military grade boot. The shoe was followed by a leg - clad in some kind of black leather pants with a red stripe running down the side - with a rather threatening knife strapped to its thigh. Above that was some kind of black leather biker jacket with a red strip running up both sides and under the arms. It was zipped nearly to the man's neck and had an unfamiliar symbol on the left brest, which she wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't such a dirty shade of yellow. He was at least a foot taller than her, forcing her to look up to look him in the eye. The eyes that stared back at her were the same ones from her other vision: keen, intelligent, and completely predatory in nature. Devyn withheld a small gasp as her gaze was inevitably drawn to the man's most unsettling feature - the bullet wound in his forehead. The searing pain she'd felt when she'd come into contact with the piece of concrete returned briefly, and now made perfect sense. She had been connecting with a dead man.

"What I expect... is for you to tell me why you insist on probing your way into my subconscious." She took a half step away from him as he spoke.

"They asked me to find -" she swallowed, "- to find your mother." Her grip on the jacket in her hand tightened with her uneasiness. Everything about him screamed 'perfectly in control' to her. The title of commander shot through her mind for a fleeting second. At the same moment, he paused in the light, that same quiet chuckle from her other vision slithering out of his throat.

"They haven't given you much choice, locking you in a room like an animal." She shot him an agitated and surprised look, "Do you know why?"

"I don't tend to question those who ask for my help, so no, I don't." Devyn leaned her back against the door, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes were still locked on that hideous wound in his head, "I like being restrained about as much as I like dead ends, Fettel." Had the room just gotten colder all of a sudden? With a slight shiver, she slipped into the coat in her hands. It was much too big for her, but it kept the cold out quite nicely. Her stare shifted to his vicious eyes, trying to peer deeper into his thoughts. It wasn't working. If she wanted answers, she'd need to get close enough to grab his arm or something along those lines. That meant she'd need to keep goading him.

"You've got spirit, I'll give you that, but you're starting to get in the way. Last chance: leave before I force you out." It wasn't a pleasant idea. The last time she'd been forced from someone's mind, she'd been bed-ridden for nearly a week. Painkillers weren't even able to hold a lit match to the pain in her head after. Pushing her concerns into a small jar in the back of her head, she stepped away from the cold steel - how was it that she could feel this vision so plainly? - of the door and walked until she was a mere foot away from him. As soon as she was within arm's reach, he grabbed her roughly by the collar of her coat and hefted her off the ground with one hand; the knife at his side was pressed against her face just as quickly, resting comfortably just below her eye.

"Well tough shit." She grinned. Her smart mouth would more than likely get her killed this time, but she couldn't resist saying _something_ as she stabbed her index finger into the obvious bullet hole in his forehead. She was immediately disgusted with herself, for like the door, she could feel every grotesque piece of torn flesh and metal in the wound. Her disgust was quickly replaced by a painful feeling of the blade sliding across her cheek in shock and a torrent of images shooting across her eyes.

At first it was only words: Armacham, origin, prototype, Perseus, Alma... but it was followed by images of horrific things. A room not unlike the one she was in now filled with blood and seven decayed skeletons. An army of identical soldiers tearing through some kind of compound, killing everyone in sight. Seeing through the eyes of a man eating both living men and their corpses. The bright muzzle flare of a gun being fired, followed by that sharp pain in her head. Gritting her teeth, she pressed beyond the images, her mind focused on the word 'mother'. Again, the name Alma flashed across her vision, followed by the image of a young girl in a red dress holding hands with an older version of herself. Before she could pursue the image further, she felt her back slam against the door and watched the images continue to block her sight. She was bombarded by feelings of pain and unbridled hatred, visions of burning corpses and twisted abominations.

Devyn could hear Fettel breathing heavily somewhere else in the room: both shocked and angry at her actions. Her vision slowly cleared giving her a moment to notice she was now laying on her stomach and bleeding. A single sympathetic tear crept from the corner of her eye as she thought of what a tortured soul he was - a thought that was torn away as she was violently lifted from the ground and placed on her feet. His hand tangled its way into her hair and pulled her head backward, leaving her throat exposed. From the corner of her eye, she could see him cleaning the blood from his knife with his tongue. She cringed as a look of morbid enjoyment flickered in his cold eyes. A blood red, smoky aura began to pour from his body.

"Looks like you'll be much more useful to me _alive_." Her eyes widened as a mad grin spread across his face. She blinked once in pure terror, and he vanished from sight entirely. Her eyes searched the room frantically for any sign of him, and found nothing but the shadows from which he'd appeared. Leaning against the wall, she exhaled slowly in a futile attempt to calm herself - only to have her breath catch in her throat as something slammed into her chest.

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Gethin and his commander watched with increasing curiosity as the girl's trance deepened. She seemed to develop a chill, and even unconsciously slid into the coat she'd been given to use as a link. Suddenly, without any warning, rhyme, or reason, she began to violently convulse. A cut sliced across the upper prortion of her left cheek seeimingly from nowhere.

"Shit!" The commander muttered, "Get in there, now! Knock her out, do something, _anything_, to break the connection!" Gethin nodded and waved for three men to follow him as he sprinted out into the hallway. It took two attempts to punch in the appropriate numbers to unlock the door, and some not-so-gentle persuasion to get his men through the door. The three grunts didn't waste a moment in removing the offending jacket from the woman while he took a defensive position at the far wall of the room - a tranquilizer gun held tightly in his hands. With the coat no longer touching her, she seemed to calm down and fell lightly onto the bed. The unfortunate woman's breathing began to return to normal, prompting him to approach her slowly with his gun still at the ready. He reached a hand out to wake her when she inhaled sharply. Instinctively, he took two steps backward, using the heads up display in the glasses he wore to assess the situation before trying anything else.

One of the grunts placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and her eyes immediately snapped open. They weren't the same as when she'd first arrived. Her left eye remained the same golden-green as when she'd arrived, but her right one was now a piercing, icy blue. He almost shuddered; he'd seen photos of Fettel, and his eyes were unfortunately something you didn't forget. Before he could warn the grunt, the woman lunged toward the man's arm and sunk her teeth deep into his wrist. As he cried out in surprise and pain, she brought her right leg up and kicked him in the head. As he staggered toward the floor from the blow, he tore his own wrist wide open. Devyn idly spat the bloody chunk of flesh onto the floor as she sat upright, her eyes passing dangerously from one man to the next.

Completely unrushed or unphased by the men pointing their guns at her, she walked to the observation window and pressed her lower right arm against it, leaning toward it as though she could see inside. A cruel, feral smile spread across her face; her tongue slid across her upper lip slowly, catching some of the blood flowing from her face and silently threatening the man on the other side of the glass. Gethin grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and slammed her against the wall. She gasped in pain, her blue eye suddenly changing back to the same shade of green as her other one and a look of confusion overtaking the viciousness on her face. Her eyes stared past him to the bleeding man on the floor.

"Devyn. _Devyn_!" Her stare shifted to him.

"What?" She asked, her voice perfectly calm and even. He sighed with mild relief, she was back to her innocent self.

"Just wanted to make sure you were yourself again," He told her with a half-hearted smile. He tapped his comm link, "She's all right boss."

"And that idiot Leroy?" Gethin could hear the unease in the commander's voice. Whatever Devyn had done in front of that window had managed to rattle him.

"Jenkins needs a band-aid for both his wrist and his ego, but I think he'll live." A faint grumble and string of curses poured from the injured man's mouth as he did what he could to stop the bleeding.

"Fine. Restrain Miss Krieg and bring her in here. I want to know what she found."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I'd like to thank Chili Peppers102 and Saahren for their words of encouragement. It really means a lot when I hear I might be doing something right. At the same time, I'd like to apologize to readers if Fettel seemed a little... off... in this particular chapter. I'm trying to keep him as close to the same sadistic bastard we've come to know and love as I can, but it's very difficult. I'm also very sorry for the bad Leroy Jenkins joke. XD<strong>

**Reviews and good tunes are the lifeblood of this story, so input is always valued (as long as it's not just to tell me I'm a terrible writer). The more reviews I get, the more I can use them to improve on the story.**


	3. Interval 03: Prometheus Rising

**Disclaimer: I still don't own any part of F.E.A.R., it's expansions, it's subsequent titles, or it's characters. Chances are I never will.**  
><strong>Devyn and Gethin are still mine.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Interval 03<strong>  
><strong>[Prometheus Rising]<strong>

As he was asked, Gethin bound Devyn's wrists behind her back - taking extreme care not to touch her bare skin - and escorted her to the observation room. The grunts followed slowly behind them, muttering among themselves about the girl's sudden and vicious turn in personality. Once within the watchful sight of the commander, he lead the girl to a chair and motioned for her to sit. She did as expected, leaned back in the chair as comfortably as she could, and stared icily at the man who'd hired her. The metalic taste of blood still coated her tongue, and the bite had stained all around her mouth. He leaned forward onto the table and rested his chin on his own interlaced fingers, studying her closely before speaking.

"Did you find anything, Devyn?" He asked. She could've sworn she'd heard aprehension in his voice.

"A name, a face, some history." She danced around the topic carefully, wondering how long her wrists would be bound.

"Care to elaborate?"

"I know his mother's name is Alma, but that's the extent of it. You pulled me out before I could dive any deeper." There was the faintest hint of disappointment in her tone.

"We need to do this in stages, Miss Krieg. The longer you're in direct contact with that lunatic, the greater the threat to your own life and sanity." He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, "Take what just happened, for example. You've sent one of my men to the infirmary."

"Only because he got in the way." She smirked, leaning toward the table, "Are these restraints really necessary? I mean, if you can't trust me, how am I supposed to trust you?" This man was acting very strangely for someone who'd wanted her help. Taking her out of the comfort of her home and surrounding her with armed men, locking her in a room and demanding that she continue to search for some woman she'd never met... and now he had her hands bound behind her back. To make things even more interesting, he seemed as though he'd been physically shaken by something. With a wave of his hand, one of the guards in the room sliced the plastic tie around her wrists open. Her hands shot to her wrists and rubbed them gingerly.

"Did you find anything else?" Her mind drifted back to some of the things that had flashed across her eyes. There had been so much pain and suffering, surgeries, experiments... cannibalism. Almost at the thought, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of the treacherous red aura drift behind the commander. She told herself it was impossible, that the man was dead and had no way of interacting with the physical world.

"The majority of what I found came after I poked the bullet in his head, and almost all of it was about him. Blood and warfare were constant themes. I wouldn't have guessed he was dead if I hadn't seen it all myself." Even the mention of that fatal shot to his head made her own head throb in pain. Her hand subconsciously moved toward her forehead, her middle finger rubbing where his wound had been gently. As her hand fell away, she noticed the tip of her finger was still stained with the gore from prodding the wound; it made her cringe. The wisp of a red aura appeared again: drifting lazily to the wall behind the commander. It slowly materialized into a dark shadow, followed by the full form of the man she'd been so readily annoying. He leaned against the wall in aparent boredom, staring deep into the back of the commander's head as though waiting for some kind of acknowledgement. Not one of the men seemed to notice he was there at all, despite the obvious new chill in the air and bright aura. Wonderful. As if having the man beat her up in her visions wasn't bad enough. The commander tossed her a pre-packaged moist towlette as she slowly stood to stretch her legs a little. Her hand curled around the little thing, but she didn't bother to open it yet.

_"He's ill at ease,"_ Fettel's voice filled her head, _"Perhaps he knows something that could be of use."_

"We need you to get around Fettel with these objects." He said sternly, changing the subject as fast as he could while trying to sound calm.

"Then I need something of Alma's, not his. His wounds give me headaches." She approached the man in a relaxed, non threatening manner, making a mental note as he seemed to recoil from her slightly. Maybe it was the dried blood around her mouth. Or maybe Fettel's odd disembodied voice was right.

"And risk you killing all of my men? The bitch's synchronicity with her son was bad enough. What do you think she could do with you?"

"She could find out what you ate last Tuesday and hold it against you." Time to see if she could goad the commander into doing something foolish. She could feel the dead man's eyes watching her as a playful smirk spread across his face.

_"If synchronicity is his concern, it's a little late for that."_ She shot the specter an invisible glare. The commander slowly rose from his seat, quickly becoming annoyed with her smart tone. He posed her a question, motioning for the two of them to take a walk down the corridors in the process.

"How much do you know about mythology?" The question was half statement, half demand.

"A little."

"The Titan called Prometheus?"

"Bound to a rock and forced to have his liver pecked out by a large eagle every day. Each day the eagle removed the organ, it would grow back to be devoured again. It was his punishment for bringing fire to mortals." The commander flashed her an icy smile.

"Impressive. Now imagine what I can do to you if you don't find a way past that psycho." The man's hands closed painfully around her shoulders and he threw her into her room. He stared at her for nearly a full minute, eyes radiating with that look of 'cross me and die', enjoying the sight of her picking herself up off the ground. The door closed and locked quickly. So maybe goading the strong militant commander was a bad idea after all.

She stalked to her bed and fell onto the paper thin mattress, holding tightly onto the images shooting across her eyes. A living person touching her was much easier to maintain contact to than a dead one. From that one forceful throw, she learned that this organization had every intent to kill Alma. That didn't sit right with her at all. She had no idea who she was, or why anyone would want her dead, but she'd felt something in that vision of the two women: whoever she'd hurt to make them want her dead had been completely justified. And she wasn't about to help a group of military knuckleheads commit a murder. Still holding her connection to the commander, she probed his subconscious for 'Prometheus'. Something about his questions involving the Titan didn't fit. Her eyes widened slightly as she began having visions of the project.

The image of a heavily pregnant woman with dusty brown hair and beautiful green eyes was the first to cross her sight, followed by flashes of dozens of bottles of pills and just as many medical syringes. She watched in mild horror as the woman took pill after pill and injected each different colored serum into her swollen abdomen, humming softly to her unborn child as though this were a common practice. It was followed by images of filed paperwork, detailing the strengths and abilities of something known as Project Prometheus - a sister project to the still developing project, Perseus. She cringed, finally recognizing the song the woman was humming as the lullaby she'd heard so many times as a young girl. Another image flashed over her eyes for a fraction of a second. An interrogation room, lit by a single dim bulb, and a female silhouette standing over a man tied to the chair. She asked him a question, which he refused to answer, but still obtained the information just by looking him in the eye. Devyn grit her teeth. Those bastards were going to use her as a means to an end. There had to be a way to reach the woman and warn her before it was too late.

From the corner of her eye, she watched her new ghostly stalker pass through the steel of the door. Not wanting to appear bothered by the presence, she tore the towlette she'd been given open and slowly started to clean the blood from her face. He leaned back against the wall opposite of her, his eyes boring into the side of her head.

"Are you the eagle sent to pick me apart?" She asked him silently, searing golden-green eyes locking with his arctic blue ones. There was a flicker of intrigue somewhere in that raging blizzard.

"I could be. I could also be the one to break the chains that bind you." He answered coolly, continuing the metaphor. She curled her hand around the sleeve of the jacket that still rested on the bed, giving the men behind the observation window something to observe.

"And why would you help me? I'm just an annoyance, remember?" He chuckled darkly at the question, pushing himself away from the wall and slowly walking to the foot of the wrought iron bed.

"You want to warn her, don't you?" He asked, extending a hand toward her. She hesitated for a moment. Was she really about to team up with a ghost? Casting a quick glance back to the observation window, she mentally shrugged. She was being held against her will, and forced to look for a woman that these men all wanted dead. What did she really have to lose, other than her life, in the process? Reaching cautiously toward the extended limb, she noticed the same mad grin she'd seen before spreading across his face. Before she could pull her hand away, his arm shot forward and grabbed her wrist, the blood red aura slowly coiling its way up and around her arm. Every cell in her body began to scream out in pain, as she fell backward onto her bed. Her blood felt like it was on fire, trying to burn its way out of her veins, and she was quickly developing a splitting headache. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming as a torrent of images flooded across her line of sight.

In the back of her mind, she could hear faint whispers as feelings of unbridled rage, hatred, and pain overwhelmed her. The burning worsened, forcing her eyes to snap open in agony. Her right eye was once again the same shade of blue as Fettel's, and her left was still her own. A single powerful thought shot through the back of her head.

_"They deserve to die. They ALL deserve to die."_ Devyn grit her teeth, but her vocal chords refused to be controlled.

She screamed.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Looks like Gethin's boss is pushing some of the wrong buttons with little miss Devyn, and things look like they're about to take a turn for the worse for the group. Thanks to Chili Peppers102, and Ignigeno for letting me know I didn't completely destroy Fettel's character (still worried it may happen in the future). Innocence-Insanity, I'm glad you're enjoying the fireworks and happy to know people want me to keep this little thing going.<strong>

**Reviews and good tunes are the lifeblood of this story, so input is always valued (as long as it's not just to tell me I'm a terrible writer). The more reviews I get, the more I can use them to improve.**


	4. Interval 04: First Blood

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own any part of F.E.A.R. Not it, its subsequent titles and expansions, its characters... none of it is mine.**  
><strong>HOWEVER! Devyn and Gethin <em>are<em> indeed mine.**

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><p><strong>Interval 04<strong>  
><strong>[First Blood]<strong>

Devyn knew she was still in the room they'd locked her in, but her eyes were showing her something else entirely. She was kneeling in some kind of puddle, breathing heavily as though she'd just run a marathon and staring deeply into her own reflection. Nothing odd stared back at her - aside from her blue right eye - but what she could in the sky behind her was unsettling. It was tinged a strange shade of orange-red, and the occasional helicopter passed overhead. Getting to her feet was a struggle; her legs felt like they'd been filled with some kind of lead pudding, and she ached all over. She could see she was in a city of some sort, with the sounds of gunfire and barked orders echoing off of what remained of the buildings around her. From the dark alleyway across from her, Alma's child form slowly approached. Devyn felt a thin smile of 'finally' creep to her face, but it quickly evaporated as she got a better look at the girl. Her steps were meaningful, powerful little strides, and she could feel a burning glare from beneath her dark hair. She blinked at the child, confused. If she was trying to warn her, why was she so angry? In response, Alma pointed calmly behind her. Compelled to see what it was that enraged the girl, she turned in an attempt to see what it was she was pointing at.

Before she could get a look at the source of her anger, she was torn from her vision by some idiot shining a light in her eyes. Groaning, she pushed the hand holding a small pen light away with the back of her hand. Had they just given her another ten seconds...

"Hey, Maddox, she's awake." The voice sounded like that of the grunt she'd torn a piece out of, Jenkins. Even though her eyes were still trying to adjust, she managed to shoot the man a glare as she sat up. She was immediately struck by strong dizziness - a head rush from laying down for an aparent long time - and felt something run down her upper lip. A bloody nose. Great. She heard a quiet sigh of relief on the other side of the room.

"Oh, good. Are you okay Devyn?" She rolled her eyes at the question.

"Depends on your definition of 'okay'. Despite having a splitting headache and a very hoarse voice, I'd say I'm doing pretty well for having another run-in with a ghost." Her stare shifted toward where she'd heard Gethin's voice. A couple of quiet gasps sounded from the same general direction. "What?" Unfamiliar footsteps rushed to her direction, and a pair of cold hands quickly grabbed her face for inspection.

"Heterochromia," a thickly accented voice murmured, "Her right eye is blue now. Didn't you say this happened when she attacked Jenkins, Mr. Maddox?"

"Yeah, but she also looked... different."

"Different?"

"He means I looked like I wanted to eat his face," She answered the medic, flashing him a sarcastic smile, "Luckily, he doesn't look very apetizing. Now if it involved chocolate and strawberries, then there'd be trouble." Her little joke pried an uneasy laugh from the grunts. The medic only frowned at her, unamused. His eyes remained trained on her blue one.

"Mr. Maddox tells me you were in some intense pain for the first hour or so, what happened?" Did he just say first hour? How long had she been trapped in that ruined city with Alma and the soldiers?

"Another vision." Her answer was plain and distant, not really wanting to discuss what she'd seen. The commander stepped out from behind a medical blind and crossed his arms impatiently over his chest, raising a mildly interested eyebrow. She could tell he was staring at her awkward eye as well.

"What did you see, Miss Krieg." He demanded. She shifted on the bed and folded her hands on her lap, staring icily up at him.

"A war... Fires sweeping over the earth, bodies in the streets, cities turned to dust... I was in the ruins of some city, and so was she. She's _really_ pissed." The commander took at least three steps away from her at her words, a look of grim recognition painting his face. She continued to describe the location where'd she'd seen the little girl, as well as gave a full description of the child.

"Sounds like the outer edge of Fairport's Auburn District," Jenkins commented, "Are you all right, sir? You look like you've seen a-" The commander's hand shot up, silencing him.

"Don't you _dare_ say it."

-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-

Once the men left, she curled up on her bed with a book containing Shakespeare's four great tragedies and lost herself within the depths of her own thoughts. There were far more questions swimming around her skull than answers. Why did her right eye refuse to return to normal? How had she lost consciousness for over three hours when she could have sworn she was wide awake and in excrutiating pain? Did these military bastards have any other secrets worth dredging up?

"Now _that's_ a good question." Fettel materialized at her bedside, casually reading over her shoulder. She assumed he was referring to the last thought that crossed her mind and rolled her eyes, not bothering to take them off of the book's pages.

"And what do you want me to do, break out and scour the halls? Last I checked, the door's locked from the outside and they have regular patrols make sure I'm still in here."

"We have a guest." Before she could retort, the door slid open and a man was thrown inside. He wore equipment similar to what was worn by half of the combatants in her vision, though his armor looked a degree or two thicker. The man had been through hell from the looks of him. His eyes didn't really focus on any one thing in the room, but he managed to scramble to his feet long enough to kick the door and utter a string of vulgarities at the men outside. She studied him, still reading, via her peripheral vision and couldn't help but chuckle darkly and shake her head. At the sound, he whipped around to face her and shot her a scathing glare.

"What're you laughing at, bitch?" His voice was hoarse and tired, ringing of military training.

"The futility of your efforts," She answered calmly, not the least bit bothered by his tone, "That door's six inches of solid steel, and the room's soundproof. You're not getting out and no one's coming to see what the yelling's about. I gave up on it a while ago." That seemed to set him straight. He stomped over to the wall opposite of her and slid down to the floor with an angry huff.

"Do you know why we're here?" He asked in an attempt to get her to look away from the book, "Hey, aren't you supposed to look at whoever's talking to you?" At the foot of the bed, concealed from the man's sight, Fettel gave her a nod. Maybe the man could be used as a little leverage. Sighing, she folded the book on her lap and slowly turned her head to him. He didn't seem to know which eye to stare at.

"They want information."

"Intel? About what?" She cracked a thin smile.

"Alma's whereabouts. They want to kill her." Cautiously, she placed her book on the blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She made sure to approach the man in a slow, non-threatening manner before crouching by his feet and resting her hands on her knees. Something about her calm demeanor was setting the man farther on edge. He retreated slightly from her, eyes narrowing in mild aprehension.

"I'm not telling anyone anything, so don't get your hopes up." Her little smile widened. From the corner of her eye, she could see Fetel approach the wall next to the man and drop to their level.

Devyn's eyes flicked from the spirit back to the bound man. This would be childsplay. Concentrating, she stared deep into the man's eyes, willing some kind of mental contact with him. Faint images flashed across her eyes as they had time and time again. He'd been sent here to 'liberate' some Armacham property from the men holding her captive, and steal back five Replica soldiers being held for observation and study. Interesting. Her eyes drifted to his left boot, where the tight wrappings of a knife hilt only barely protruded from the top. They'd forgotten to completely search him, how convenient. She reached for it slowly, subtlely, but he noticed the movement and pulled his foot away from her. She clucked her tongue.

"Nice try, bitch, but something tells me giving you any kind of weapon is a bad idea." Her head tipped innocently to one side. Without any warning, a blood red smoky aura began to pour from her right arm. She lunged for him, one hand wrapping around his throat and the other covering his mouth. His eyes widened as the aura began to seep from her into his mouth, choking and paralyzing him. Something about this seemed all to easy and child-friendly. She knew all too well that she was being monitored, and that someone was bound to come running to help the man soon enough.

Right on cue, two men came rushing into the room - leaving the door wide open behind them. Perfect. They tried to approach her from behind, an effort made useless as Fettel's ghost warned her of their presence. In a single motion, she drew the knife from the man's boot and shot to her feet, turning in a wide arc with the blade facing outward toward their throats. The poor men didn't have time to react; their throats were flayed wide open before their fingers could close around the triggers. She could hear her mental companion chuckle with grim delight as the pair fell to the floor. Turning back to the man she'd been strangling - who was now horrified instead of choking - a sadistic smirk crept to her face.

"You know what, you're right..." Her voice began to double strangely, a combination of her own and Fettel's, "Giving me a weapon is a _very_ bad idea." She stooped down and patted him gently on the head as a 'thank you' and tore off into the halls. Her mind was racing, and her pulse had quickened to an almost alarming pace, but her face couldn't have been calmer. She'd never been able to fight or use a knife like that before. Never, not even in her wildest dreams, could she have killed two men with one movement. Was he actually helping her reach her new found goal, or was she just having another vision?

Devyn ducked into a vacant and aparently unused room and crouched by the door, listening to the sound of heavy boots rushing by. Her grip on the knife's hilt tightened, but relaxed as the sounds faded to the far end of the corridor. Exhaling slowly, she glanced at the blood-soaked blade and nearly choked. It had been dripping onto the floor during her escape.

"Shit." She muttered. The room was devoid of any cloth or object to clean it, and she was against purposely ruining her white pants with someone else's blood. Sighing, she dragged the flat of the blade across her tongue - on each side of the weapon - and tucked it into her right thigh pocket. Faint whispers echoed in her ears almost immediately after she swallowed the liquid. That was new. One of them mentioned the soldiers were being held in the lowest floor of the compound, and the whispers ceased as soon as the taste in her mouth was gone. Was that Fettel's doing as well? Brushing the thought aside, she peered out the door. No one had bothered to follow the blood yet, good.

_"Looks like we'll be able to get along after all."_ His voice was still full of superiority, but she couldn't help but smile a little, _"Where'd you develop such a thirst for violence?"_

"I blame you." She muttered to the spirit as she hurried down the hall. Those soldiers were a new goal that needed to be reached. She needed their help if she wanted to escape this god-forsaken facility and reach Fairport.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Thanks to Saahren, Chili Peppers102, Ignigeno, and Innocence-Insanity for giving me your input. I'm glad you're all enjoying the show. Yes, Innocence, that was a lot of exclaimation points XD. Things look like they're about to get pretty intense for our unlikely duo pretty soon.<strong>

**Reviews and good tunes are the lifeblood of this story, so input is always valued (as long as it's not just to tell me I'm a terrible writer). The more reviews I get, the more I can use them to improve.**


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